Anagram
by Ankle Deep
Summary: When a girl wakes up on the side of the road with no memory and no family, who will come and save her? Will she ever figure out the anagram of her past? Vampire OC/OC And T just to be safe.
1. Introductions

**Anagram **

**By Ankle_Deep**

**Disclaimer: None of these concepts or characters that you may recognise belong to me. They all belong to Stephanie Meyer, so that's just too bad for everyone else.**

**Chapter One: Introductions**

When I woke up, everything was as bright and clear as early morning, even though all I could see was dark. At least, it should have been dark, but I could see as clearly as though the deep, wet hole that I was lying in was floodlit. Better even than that, because I could notice tones and colours that I had never known existed, and every bent blade of grass and squashed, sodden flower stood out in its own particular frame, in detail so perfect I could look at them forever. I looked all around myself in wonder – exactly, I was wondering how on earth something like this could happen to me. It was all so surreal, no sound penetrated the smooth, grassy hollow I lay in, as though being below ground level cut out the surrounding noises and created a hollow roaring in my ears.

I tried to reach back into my foggy memories, willing them to engulf me and give me some much-needed answers.

I could vaguely remember feeling something, in a murky memory, of pain. Searing, burning pain, like being on fire, but worse because I could not scream, could not douse myself or put out the flames that burned me. Worse because it was like I was drowning in the fire, unable to breathe, knowing I should be dead but still feeling the pain. Worse because I thought something as powerful as that could never stop. It went on for a while, this burning agony, for longer than I could bear – in the end I was hoping for death, death would have been the best alternative, I had thought, through the flames. What could be worse than the pain? I had lost all track of time when my heart thrummed a wild beat against the fire, then finally stopped.

That was when I opened my eyes, and found myself in a pool of some sort, and I could see _everything._ I marvelled again at my new sight, looking for what seemed like the first time, as though I had never really seen before.

But the mystery was still not solved. What had happened to me? Why was I lying here in this sodden ditch, feeling strong and powerful and yet still unable to get up? Why could I see and hear and smell the land around me like I never had, hear every whisper in the air, taste the very dust that flew in eddies as I breathed? Did I even need to breathe? I felt no momentary relief from the action; it was just as though I was breathing because I felt it necessary.

All of these questions buzzed around my brain like giant stinging bees, which seemed to have much more room to fly than before. Before . . . there held the answers I sought. I tried to reach back into the cloudy memories again, and this time I could recollect more than when I had last tried, even though I was sure that there was something more solid behind the fog, stopping me from reaching further. I sat up as I struggled to haul the past from my mind.

It was hard going, and at this time I became aware of a stinging, burning pain at the back of my throat, almost as though I was thirsting for something. I tried drinking the water in the pool – with difficulty, as I had to angle my head under the invisible binds just to reach it – but even though the water was fresh and clear it was no use. It was like drinking salt water mixed with mud - it did nothing for my new thirst, and tasted horrible. Eventually I saw the answers, but the effort caused the bonds that held my body and mind to pull me to the ground again.

I could remember more now, more of whom I was. Was? Am? It was hard to tell. How could I be myself when I didn't even know what my name was? So I started there. I tried to remember someone calling my name, my mother perhaps? Yes, now that I thought of it, I could hear a high, tremulous female voice calling someone. Was it me? I longed to respond to her. _Anna, Anna_, _sweetie I love you_ . . . she called, her voice getting fainter now. As it faded slowly away, I felt something deep in my heart chip off the whole, and I knew that it was my mother calling me, and that I would never see her again.

I then heard a crash, and the memory took a different turn, this time supplying pictures, but this seemed to be no recollection of mine. I heard the ripping of metal and shattering glass as I saw a scene that was quite different to the hollow pool I lay in.

I saw a car careering away off a dark winding road then crashing and rolling back down onto someone who had just fallen out of the passenger seat, a girl with smoky coloured skin and hair that gleamed in the moonlight.

She looked young, fifteen at the most, with a face wracked with pain and a strange distance in her eyes, as though she was seeing something other than what was around her, but still feeling the crushing metal on her stomach and back, still feeling the fear and the panic that was so evident in the faces of her family, but never quite there, even in her hour of death. I heard people screaming, and all was dark.

There was something strangely familiar about that face that I couldn't quite place . . . but that was insignificant compared to the revelation that came with these thoughts as the vision ended.

What I had just seen was quite unexpected. Who was I kidding, it was more than unexpected, I had never experience that in my entire life! I doubted if anyone had. Those visions, the voices, they couldn't possibly be memories, for if they were, I could see no one to relate the images to. If it indeed was me witnessing this crash, then I would have a sense of being in the memory, wouldn't I? I would see my hands reaching out or at least my hair flowing over my shoulder or something. It almost looked as if I was a bird, looking down on the scene, part of the happenings yet unable to be found. Was I looking into the past? It seemed an impossible thought, but then again what was happening to me could not be possible, and yet it was happening, so who was I to talk?

This barrier of memory was really quite confusing. I knew who I was, and I could see myself in the reflection of the water in the pool next to me. I just didn't know my past, and with every glance into the pool I noticed something new about myself. Everything was new.

I looked down again to see my hand resting against a sliver of twisted metal and nearly jumped in surprise, if I could underneath my invisible binds. Was it my touching the metal that had caused the vision? Could it be that I could be seeing the past connected to that object? I had heard a word for that before ... what was it? Retrovision: seeing things from the past.

It was astounding to think that I, in some way could be special, be different from the others. All my like I had felt average, even though my friends, my parents and my teachers had told me otherwise, and all my test results were marked prodigious by all who saw them, I still felt as though there was still more to be done, still more I had to achieve to feel really satisfied with myself. The past was coming back to me in fits and starts now, and I was just getting to know myself again when suddenly, in a burst of understanding, I remembered what I looked like, once upon a time.

I was tall, I remembered that first. I was tall and slender, with smoky dark skin that seemed to be a compromise between paleness and the real chocolaty olive tones that lay underneath. My hair was not a pride to me, though all else fondled it I thought nothing of its light milk chocolate colour and subtle waves that reminded me of dead tree's bark and everyone else of the rich warm earth. I was (am?) young ... but seemed to be wiser than my years, and I did well in school without really having to try.

This new information was a shock to me, remembering my identity as I was, for now I just felt like a stranger in my own body. My restricted view of myself in the water next to me was a ghostly white, with strong, high cheekbones, but I could only see the side of my face from the reflection. Was I coordinated in my other life? I am now. Could I see as well, or smell as well? I think not, and yet I couldn't be sure, it was as though when I tried to remember I was smothered in a thick fog that obscured my vision.

Could I get another peek into the past like I had with that poor girl's car crash? Maybe, if I could get close enough to touch another shard of metal. My mind was already reeling from the possibilities of my new vision, and, bound to the ground as I was, almost excited to see what I could do with the raw strength that I felt building in my arms. With a barely audible gasp, I remembered more of what I was like: I hadn't been truly excited in a long time.

I lay there for a while, wondering of the possibilities of my new abilities, my mind stretching farther than my bound body could ever go in its current state, and yet it felt as though my mind was bound as well. Whenever I tried to think of my past further than myself, it felt as though a brick wall stood between me and recognition, protruding from the mist. I let out a huff of frustration at my bindings and immediately I saw that there was a person where there had not been one before.

He had appeared as suddenly as though he had always been there, and I was just seeing him for the first time, and yet ... he seemed unnatural, as though he never belonged to the landscape on which he stood, and he was shimmering slightly in the moonlight.

Once the shock subsided I started to look at him really, and as soon as I gazed upon his face, I saw that he was beautiful, inhumanly so. He looked pale as alabaster, with inky black shoulder length hair that sagged into his eyes in careless squalor.

He could only be fifteen, and he had a distinctly muscular build, the contours of which were taller even than me, which was something at least. He looked American, as though he had grown up on a farm, even though he was wearing a muddied navy blue suit which was spattered with what looked alarmingly – and enticingly – like dried blood. I sniffed the heady scent silently, enjoying the flavour in my nostrils but not quite knowing why.

But it was his eyes that were the most unusual thing about him. They were a deep, endless black that looked as though it could go on forever. I just couldn't stop staring at his eyes, which drew me in like I was on the end of a fishing line.

As I stared, my new mind kept tabs on his amused half smile, his animalistic stance and the secret orange light that glowed in his eyes as he looked at me. I wondered what I must have done for him to look at me like this, and I saw the power in his hands and limbs and I knew that there was no chance of escape.

He looked wary of me, as though I might disappear at any moment, or was dead, and I looked at him, not quite knowing what to expect but trying not to let the fear show in my face. What was happening?

I felt that somehow this man knew what, or who I was, and yet those frustrating binds held me fast to the ground and prevented me from speaking. I tried anyway, though, and managed to exhale a low rush of air through my mouth, to show the man that I was still breathing. Sort of.

That seemed to confirm whatever he was thinking, and he came further towards me now, interest showing clearly on his face. I knew that this could go either way at that moment. I knew that he would either harm me, or he would speak to me, and the careful restriction in his eyes gave nothing away. I waited, watching to see what would happen next.

"Hello? Are you awake? Why yes, you are, I can hear your breath. Welcome, my dear."

His voice was the most beautiful, tenor melody I had ever heard. It was both strong and lilting, with cadences that seemed to belong to a time older than he could possibly be. Seemingly knowing that I could neither move nor speak back to him, he waited politely for me to heave myself, with a great effort, off the ground and onto my elbows.

Then I began to ponder what he meant by 'welcome'. Did he know where, and what I was, and whether I was alive? Or was this heaven after all, with the beautiful Saint Peter come to take me to my family? I, too, waited for him to realise that I knew nothing, and could not answer.

"My dear? Oh! Of course, but I forgot I had bound you before the change, how forgetful of me, sorry. I just didn't know whether you would run out on me as soon as you awoke, I just wanted to be sure that you were alive, is all. Do forgive me, I shall allow you to get up."

And in an instant I was released and it felt so good after my strong, invisible binds that I swear I was floating away on cloud, far, far away from all the confusion that this man's words presented.

But that only lasted a second. Once the euphoria that freedom presented died down, it was replaced by all of the memories that I had previously existed without, rushing in like water through the floodgates. It was dizzying mentally, and I reeled from all the new information, the emotions, the realisation of who I really was as it all came flooding back.

The sheer weight of the amount of memories weighed down on me like the proverbial ton of bricks, and it was all I could do not to collapse again, even with my newfound strength. I saw it all, it was all there, but there was no way I was going to try and access that information, not until I had sorted out what was going on in the present first.

So I held back my identity for a few more precious moments, just until this mysterious black-eyed man could explain what had happened to me first, and I could deal with it. Then I realised that to find out the information I needed, I would have to speak, when I could not remember having spoken before. I was sure I had in the now repressed memories, but I had no wish to open the mental floodgates properly yet.

And yet, I still had to let this strange man know that I could speak, but I had never spoken before, and really didn't want to now. I was all different, not me, of that I was sure, so what would I sound like? There was no way that I was going to open my floodgates of memories, if I did than I would be overwhelmed for days or more as my life flashed before my eyes. But I had no choice.

"E-excuse me Sir, but I'm not sure I know your name."

My voice was beautiful, fresh and clear, like clear ringing bells even as I stuttered. He sound wasn't high, exactly, not in a girlish way but more clear and clarified and it carried around the sound-containing hollow, echoing back to me as I listened in rapture to this new sound. Part of my mind wondered why I was so amused by my own voice while another gauged his reaction. He looked halfway between confusion and amusement, as though he knew something I didn't.

"Why, its Beckett, my dear but just Beckett mind you, I don't think I remember my last name."

This confused me even more, but I kept my mouth shut, almost scared to hear my own voice again, and even though it was so new it was so unlike his deep, melodic words that I wanted to cry, an emotion in this circumstance that was previously unknown.

"Are you ok?"

His words brought more unknown emotions to me, much like the memories that sat like dogs, barking at my door. He looked concerned about me, _he wanted me to be ok_ and for some reason that set my brain in whirl. Even though I had just met him, he was the singularly most beautiful person I had ever seen, and I wanted him to speak again. But I had to answer.

"I'm a little confused ... why am I here? Why couldn't I remember anything when I woke up? Why was I bound to the ground and now I'm not? What – "

"Ok, ok, I understand that this must be confusing, what with you having no memory of ... what happened."

At first his voice was laughing when he cut me off, but it had a serious edge to it, again as though there was something that he needed to tell me. I waited for him to say more.

"Well, I'd better tell you then ... but it won't be a short story, I warn you."

"I have a while, don't I?" I asked, cocking my head and pausing.

This made him laugh quite a lot, much to my confusion, and when I asked he just shook his head.

"All in due course, my dear, you'll find out in a second if you care to wait and seeing as you _have a while – _" He chuckled again, "I'd better tell you. But first, I've told you my name, but what's yours?"

He waited for my answer, but as far as I was concerned, he would get none, as I wanted to have no recollection of anything like that. I knew the real answer lay in my mind, but I was too afraid to look that I just shook my head.

"Are you sure?" He asked his voice full of curiosity and concern. "You can't remember at all?"

I can't lie to him, I realised, as I tried to speak, not because I couldn't say the words but it just felt wrong to. I couldn't bear the way he might look at me if I ever lied to him. I wanted him to want me, I ... just wanted to be more than just the girl he found by the road. I couldn't explain it, but it was true.

I liked him. I really, really liked him. I didn't know why, but I knew that much was true. It was that, and only that which made me lift my head, and utter the words that I had known for all of my life, and could only just remember. He needed to know. I _needed_ him to know.

"My name ... is Anna."


	2. Explanations

**Chapter Two: Explanations**

**A/N: Well hello again, everyone. This is the second chapter of my story (just in case you didn't guess already) and in regards to reviews: cut me some slack here people! This is my first ever fanfiction and with only two reviews, one of them being a flame, I'm starting to feel a little unloved. When it comes to it, it's really quite simple – if you don't like Twilight, don't read and review a Twilight fanfic! Despite this though, I can promise that this will be a better, albeit shorter chapter than the last. Enjoy!**

"_My name ... is Anna."_

"That's a beautiful name." Beckett was smiling, all previous cautiousness about my wellbeing gone, and even that made my heart leap. That's how pathetically far-gone I was. How long had I known him? I was so caught up in his face and his shoulders, and the mysterious disappearance of the carefulness in his eyes that I didn't hear what he had said after, which was probably just as well seeing as he was muttering to himself. Instead of thinking of the habit as weird, like I would with any other person I just saw it as another endearing feature for the rather extensive list. Yes, I already had a list.

"I guess I'd better tell her what's going on, and it would be easier for me if... yes. I'll just answer any questions that you have, ok?"

He said the last part out loud for me to hear, and even though I was at the bottom of the ditch and he at the top I had no trouble hearing him. I thanked my new senses again for that favour, wondering what else I could do with them. I took a deep breath, preparing my questions and wondering what he was thinking of me. I reminded myself to stay calm – he probably didn't think anything of me, and as much as that chipped at my heart it was way better than if he actually saw in my face what_ I_ thought of _him_. I shuddered at the thought.

"Ok ... " I paused, forcing myself not to bombard him with questions and make him uncomfortable. "What am I?" I had already figured I wasn't exactly me, and it was the easiest of the questions I had so I was surprised when he grimaced, managing to make it one of the most beautiful grimaces I had ever – stop it Anna, stop it.

"I was hoping you wouldn't ask that," He said, "it's the one question that has all the others tied to it, you see. In that case, I'd be better off telling you the whole story, beginning to end."

I was fine with anything that required me staying exactly where I was and listening to his voice was an added bonus, so I nodded at him and gestured for him to go on. He was being annoyingly casual about this though, and once I had gotten over his insane good looks I saw that he was a joker of sorts, dragging this out sufficiently long enough to draw an exasperated huff from my lips.

"Ok, ok, I'll start. Well, I was catching a snack around these parts when – " "Catching a snack? In a forest in the middle of the night?" I was too baffled to care much about interrupting, even when I had waited so long to hear his story, but he gave me another of his I-know-something-you-don't-but-if-you-can-manage-to-stay-quiet-long-enough-i'll-tell-you looks and continued. "_Anyway, _I was having a bite to eat and I was running and I passed by the road, right, and – " he stopped suddenly and gave me a dazzling grin that melted through my anti-boy defences that I had apparently set up in my past life (I was remembering snippets of things as streams of water broke past the floodgates) and once again made me wonder where the gentle caution of when I had woken up was gone. The next thing he said dazzled me even more.

"I don't know what you're doing to me Anna, all of a sudden I'm speaking in slang!" Another grin, and a dazed look from me at the way he said my name. In my mind he may as well have put a 'my' in front of it and I couldn't have been happier. How long had I know him again? All of ten minutes, but it could have been years.

It was ridiculous, I knew, to have fallen so hard for a strange guy I had only just met, but everything, from the coolly casual way he slouched against the ruined car next to him to the secret orange light in his eyes, drew me to him, slowly, inexorably, like a helpless fish on the end of a stunningly well made line. The confusion of half an hour ago (roughly, I had calculated, the time between when Beckett had found me and when I had woken up) seemed gone, as did the small chip that had broken off my heart, it all seemed so long ago. When he was here, everything was alright.

"Anna? Are you even listening?" Oops, that was Beckett, I guessed. I made a mental note to stop losing myself in my thoughts, it could be very distracting.

"Ummm, yes?" Busted. I couldn't imagine what I would say if he asked why. _Oh, I was just thinking about how much I love you Beckett, never mind we only just met!_ Yeah, right.

"Well listen up." He sounded like a school teacher. It was funny how he switched feelings all the time and could still manage to be the same Beckett. Ugh! I had to keep reminding myself that I_ barely knew him_ and concentrate on what he was trying to tell me. But in a way he seemed like a little kid too, like he was stalling, but making it look like it was me who was keep him from saying anything.

"Anna, this is very important. Please listen to me." He was deadly serious now, look at me with his strange orange eyes, willing me to look straight into them, and I did, all traces of the stupid love sick mood I was – I decided to call them 'Anna Moments' – in vanished. It seemed as though he controlled my every mood.

"It was dark, and the cliff road was winding, and I guess they were distracted. I couldn't stop it Anna, not without being seen. They ..." What? What was he talking about? Who was distracted? A cold fist clenched its fingers around my stomach, twisting it into a tight knot. Shivers ran down my spine. Why did I have this strange feeling that I knew what was going to happen next?

"They crashed, Anna. They lost control and went off-road and into this ditch. I heard them and tried to help, but I couldn't go near. The car was too battered, and it rolled back across ... they couldn't escape. No one could save them. I'm so sorry."

In that instant, my whole world shattered. I froze into place like a block of stone, as though I could become the immobile, unfeeling rock I now resembled. I didn't want to feel the pain which was worse even than the fire, but I did. Oh boy, but I did. It felt as though I had been torn into piece and the fragments scattered, some to be dumped in acid, others to be drowned and more to be crushed by steel spikes, ever hurting, ever pushing me towards more torture as the memories of my now dead family come surging to the brink of my consciousness.

I didn't even notice when Beckett started calling my name, then when I obviously didn't respond to him I didn't feel his hands on mine when he started to lift me up and out of the trench and into the dark, still night. I didn't even notice when we reached the brink of the forest and started to run, so absorbed was I in the memories of my childhood and family, coming though the barrier I had created for myself. I saw my mother's face, warm but stern, looking down at me when I spilt my food as a toddler. Then my father, forever joking, playing catch with me in our backyard and laughing when I missed the ball again and again. Last my sister, laughing with me over something someone had said, then instantly serious as we debated some of our favourite topics.

My family, gone. They who brought me into to the world, who comforted me when I was sad, cared for me when I was sick and laughed with me when all was fine and good in the world. They were the world to me and they were gone forever.

And forever is a very, very long time.

**A/N: Well? What do you think? I would like some reviews please, or even just suggestions on how to make it better. Remember, reviews = virtual gummy snakes for all involved.**

**-Ankle Deep**


	3. Relations

**Chapter Three: Relations**

**A/N: Hello Everyone! Well, now that I've said that there's not much else I can say, so I'll just let you read and enjoy – hopefully! Oh, and I don't own Twilight, even if that would make me a multi millionaire with a bestselling novel series (and let's face it, not many people don't want that). Well ... let's begin ... *spooking music plays and velvet curtains open* **

When I started noticing my surroundings again I saw that I was lying (once again) in a rough clearing of wood and ferns, with Beckett behind me and nothing in front of me but the cold, dark night. A crescent moon shone from beneath a canopy of trees and creepers, bathing the place in an aura of blue-white light that illuminated all corners from the place where the forest was thick with undergrowth to the young, beautiful girl kneeling in front of me and waving her hand in my face. My eyes focused and I jumped up in a movement that almost seemed like I had teleported and suddenly I was at the other end of the clearing, stiff with fright and glaring at the thirteen year old girl like she was an alien species.

My mind was reeling from an onslaught of information, and after finding out ... so many things, the girl was just one more thing I had to think about. I had never been too good at repressing things, and the brick wall that once separated me from my memories had crumbled, leaving a frosted glass window behind. I could see shadows of my old life behind the glass, and the pain I had revisited on my way to the clearing was bubbling somewhere close to the surface, so I tried to think as much in the future as possible. I knew the time would come to curl up and cry for ages, but with so much uncertainty about where I was going, the time was not now.

Finally I realised that while I had been thinking about all of that in my head, I had still been standing frozen at the other end of the clearing, glaring at a spot that was now somewhere in the empty space above Beckett's head. I cringed, thinking of the negative connotations he might have attached to this glaring and slowly slid to the ground, stunned and defeated by none other than my own mind, which was filled with horror stories about what he probably would be thinking about me now.

I was still lying there when I heard the rustle of grass as Beckett and the stranger girl walked tentatively over to where I was lying, and sat down. The girl was about to lean over and wave at me again, but a restraining hand and a reproachful look from Beckett stopped her, and as I lay there, I wondered what to do next. Things seemed to slow down for a fraction of a second, just so I could figure things through, and start to relate them in my mind.

I was lying in a clearing, in a forest, in the middle of the night. I was with two almost complete strangers, one of whom I had a strange and possibly not returned attraction for and the other who couldn't seem to get her hands out of my face. They both seemed pale (and as much as it jested me to admit it, sparkly), and also didn't seem to mind eating at all hours, judging from my strange conversation with Beckett. I myself was feeling strange, a kind of thirst was pulsing though me that was impossible to ignore. I wasn't tired either, and could see, hear, smell and even taste everything in fine detail. My heart wasn't beating.

Maybe I was dead, and had gone to heaven. That would explain the people that looked like angels (even hyper 13 year old looking ones) and the fact that my heart didn't pound in my chest anymore. Maybe I had died – I forced myself to go on – in the car crash with my parents. But why weren't they here then? And why was I so thirsty? People aren't supposed to be thirsty in heaven, are they? And if this was heaven, why was Beckett looking so sad? He looked like the heart-wrenching sadness that I had felt, when I had heard, barely an hour before (I don't know how I knew the time, I just did) about my family. I tried to imagine how they might have felt, to get over the pain of losing them one more time. It was worth a try, as much as it ripped at my insides to do it.

What had Beckett said about it? Snippets of his words wormed their way through my mind, like electric eels, stinging me with every thought. _They crashed, Anna ... lost control ... off-road and into this ditch ... couldn't stop them ... it rolled back across ...no one could save them ... no one ... _My head snapped up and my eyes glazed over, only just seeing the startled faces of Beckett and the stranger girl as the stared at me in alarm. I saw a different scene, and unfortunately, one I knew all too well.

A dark, winding road, and a suburban car careering off it. The hollow ditch next to it, and the car crashing into it and slowing as it went straight through, reached the lip of the hole and began to roll back down. The girl who could be no younger than fifteen, lying underneath and the girls family screaming, all screaming for someone to help them. In the shadows, a pale man in a blood-spattered suit and dark hair, watching.

It was me. The car crash was my family's and the dark haired, smoky skinned girl who was trapped was _me. _And there was Beckett, standing and watching my family – and me – die.

A single thought flashed through my head and suddenly I was running, faster than I could ever have imagined, away from the clearing and Beckett and my visions of something that was the past and was now at the same time. And all the time I was thinking about one thing, the single thing that was keeping me from running until I came to the nearest cliff and jumped off it.

If my family had died in that car crash like I had seen and Beckett had seen, and it was me that had been trapped under that suburban car and presumably crushed, and if all I had seen and heard and known and felt, if all of that was true ...

Then why was I still alive?

**A/N : *lights brighten and curtains close * Cliffhanger! But only because I don't know what to do next! Help me please! And don't forget to review!**


	4. Some Notice

**Some Notice:  
Yeah, as you can see I've been away for a while, and have been unable to write – schools getting hard with assignments, homework, tests, you name it. I will be writing soon, and I am grateful to all of your reviews so far, but if I don't get reviews than I can't take the time to write, so feel free to review with ideas, criticism and anything else.  
Please take the time out of your day to review, so I can take the time out of mine.  
~ Ankle Deep  
**


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